And yet another batch of poor metaphors.
He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.
Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.
The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
The ballerina rose gracefully en pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.
The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
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I've seen some of these before, and they are great! In fact, some of them are so hysterically funny that I have sometimes wondered if someone isn't pulling our leg, telling us they were written by school kids, when really they were written by some of those very clever English teachers (or the like).
ReplyDeleteEither way, they are hillarious! just what I needed! Thanks, Susan!
ReplyDeletewendi